Call of Duty: Zombie War
by Kiefer I
Summary: A history of the Zombie War, from the first encounter, to the modern battlefield, this is a story of the defining battles between man and zombie. Rated M for strong violence and some language.


_I do not own the nazi zombies. _

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**Call of Duty: Zombie War**

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Sgt. James Parsley coughed, trying to clear the thick cigarette smoke that hung in the air from his throat. That was the problem with this army. Too many American soldiers smoked. Of course, the smoke was not the only problem. The air was filled with the smell of sweat and a mix of profanity from the new recruits sitting at their desks. For a training officer like Parsley, this was pretty normal for him. After stacking a few papers on his desk, he decided it was time to start the class.

"Alright, boys," the Sergeant called out, silencing the cramped room of conversation. "Lets get started."

"Yeah!" one of the young soldiers replied loud enough for the entire group to hear. "Lets get this over with so we can swipe some gorebags!"

The crowd replied with a grunt agreement.

"Settle down there, Private O'Harra." Parsley smiled. "You get too cocky, and one of those meatsacks might bite your money maker off."

The entire room roared with laughter.

Parsley continued. "Ok, so, you all know why you are here. With this new kind of enemy on the loose, you greenhorns need to actually look like you know what you are doing. Sure, you know how to shoot a man, but these aren't human, and there are new tactics you need to learn to survive out there."

He paused, waiting for any interruptions. None came. "Well, let me tell you a little bit about these guys. Basically, these things are zombies. Yes, the same zombies from your little comics and movies. We don't know why these guys aren't staying dead, and honestly, I don't care. They are here, and we have to do something about it.

Now, you guys are going to learn a few shooting methods out on the range, but I'm just going to tell you now, shoot these guys in the head. That's the most effective way to do it. I know it sounds corny but its true. Another rumor that I've heard going around camp is that if these dead suckers bite you, then you'll turn into them. This is false. These things just like to beat the crap out of you."

Parsley stepped back towards a chalkboard covered with a drawing of Europe. He pointed at Berlin, the capitol of Germany. "From a guessing game with our scientist friends, we have found out that these zombies have originated from somewhere around Berlin and have affected only dead German soldiers. As you can imagine, there are a lot of dead soldiers in Germany spread out around hundreds of miles. That's why Europe was overrun in a matter of days."

A lone hand was raised and stuck out of the crowd like a soar thumb. Parsley acknowledged the gesture.

"Um, sir? How many dead Germans are we talking about?"

The teacher folded his arms and bit his lip for a second. He was hoping to keep this information from the men, but it was inevitable. "We know that the Germans suffered over 11 million casualties. But, the dead bodies of Germans in the infected zone are near 2 to 3 million. So far, the dead outside of the area has not been infected as of yet."

A hollow murmur flowed from the crowd. Close to 3 million zombies in Europe was not good news. It had only been close to a year since the last World War had ended. The Zombie War had been raging for a few months. And from what scattered Intel and rumors were saying, the humans were having a hard time keeping the dead from spreading to other countries. This is why these training sessions were becoming increasingly important.

"Yep. That's why we need you boys to be ready. Now . . ." He quickly checked the clock that hung above his head, seeing if he had enough time before the next group came in. "I am going to tell you the story about the first encounter with these bastards that we have on record and how four soldiers managed to give the zombies a run for their money . . ."

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June 9, 1945

Somewhere over the Berlin countryside.

Pvt. Carl Gaither breathed in the cool night air that flowed through the cargo hold of the Douglas C-47. He and a half a dozen other American soldiers under the command of Captain Powers were making their way back towards the French coast for some well deserved rest and relaxation. Carl didn't mind flying, but always felt comfortable on the ground. But, with the war over, there wasn't anything to worry about, except for some airsickness. The guys sitting around him were sleeping, smoking or trying to hold conversation over the roar of the engine.

He felt something squeeze his arm and he turned his attention to the fellow soldier next to him. Pvt. Steven Marks stared at him, grinning from ear to ear. "Is that a Colt M1911 in you pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Carl smiled. He and Marks had gone through basic training together and fought the last few months of the war side by side. Even though Marks was seen as a troublemaker and all around fun guy, he was still dangerous and could shoot like no other man Gaither had seen.

Carl quickly ignored the funny quip and moved his attention to the captain sitting a few seats down the aircraft. "Sir!"

Captain Powers' eyes darted towards the sound. "Yes, Private?!"

"How much longer, sir?!"

The Captain glanced at the watch wrapped around his wrist. "About an hour! Why? You have somewhere to be?!"

Carl chuckled. "No, sir! I just have a bunch of French ladies waiting for me, that's all!"

It was the Captain's turn to laugh now. A few bumps of turbulence silenced the moment of mirth. The plane shook for a few second, and then resumed its smooth ride.

"Whew," Marks sighed. "Man, for a moment there I thought . . ."

He never had the chance to finish the sentence. A thundering sound exploded from one side of the plane. The aircraft lurched to the left side violently, sending a few unfortunate soldiers flying across the tight space and slamming them into the wall. Screams of both terror and pain erupted. Carl felt his harness biting into his shoulders as his body turned with the plane. One of the pilots shouted for everyone to hold on. From the corner of his eye, he could spot flames pouring out from one of the engines.

The plane was spinning out of control. The amount of G's hitting Carl's body was causing his vision to blur. He tried to scream, but the roar of the air rushing through the cabin was deafening. Over the noise, he heard someone scream 'Hold on'. Carl managed to turn his head to look out the window. The ground was approaching fast, until . . . darkness and silence.

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"Carl?"

A voice called out beyond the pitch-blackness.

"Private!"

Suddenly, it all came back to him. The plane. The crash. His friends.

With a small groan, Carl came to, opening his eyes to the world around him. Captain Powers was standing over him with a grave look on his face.

"On your feet, Private!"

Carl obeyed, heaving his body off of the muddy earth. A quick look at his surroundings, and he found out they had landed in a field. Scattered hills and trees filled the land. It was almost black out due to fog. But a full moon made sure some light pierced the gloominess. The other light source came from the burning plane wreckage behind Carl. The front end of the plane was ablaze and almost stuck strait up into the air. The back half was somewhere in a patch of trees.

"My God," Carl whispered. "How many made it?"

Powers let out a long sigh. "Only you, me, Marks and Pudgy."

Carl cursed under his breath. "Where the hell are we?"

"I haven't the slightest clue. I believe we are still somewhere in Germany. I can't see any stars to help us and my map was in my backpack."

"Where's your backpack?"

Powers simply pointed towards the front half of the plane.

"Crap. Where are Marks and Pudgy?"

"They're scouting the area and trying to find any supplies that will be useful."

As if on cue, both men appeared from the fog carrying an assortment of bags.

"Carl!" Marks noticed his friend. "Am I glad to see you!"

The men embraced for a moment. "Some luck, huh? Just got out of the war and God is still trying to kill us."

Carl nodded. He was amused the Marks could still find jokes at a time like this.

"What's in the bags?" Captain Powers drew his attention to the packs his soldiers had found. The soldier dubbed "Pudgy" rested three duffle bag sized packs on the ground. Pudgy had always been an adventure seeker, but was always restricted by his weight problem. He wasn't ashamed of his thickness, and joked about it all the time. That's why his fellow brothers call him . . .

"Pudgy?"

The bigger man listed off their findings. "Well we found five K-rations which should last about a day and a half. A few combat knives, spoons, winter jacket, compass, three thermite charges, about six grenades, two bandoliers of rifle ammo, and five M1 Garands. But, since we are now at peace with this country, I highly doubt we'll be needing the weapons anytime soon."

A sound echoed out of the fog. All four men turned, trying to find the origin of the noise. It sounded like a long moan ending with a short growl. It sounded far away, but in these hills, noise could echo. Meaning, whatever made the sound could either miles away, or right next to their position. Pudgy looked up at Powers.

"Was that a wolf?"

Powers looked confused. "I don't know. Sure sounded like one."

Marks seemed a little nervous. "Maybe we do need those guns. Id hate to get caught with my pants down by a wolf."

The other men agreed and began handing weapons and ammo equally amongst each other. After dawning packs, the captain decided it would be best to head north until they hit a road or house. So, they began their long walk into the fog.

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After an hour of hiking through the dark German countryside, Powers started to slow down. He raised his fist into the air, signaling the men behind him to stop. Then, he made a downward motion with his hand, as if he was pushing the air to the ground. Carl crouched. This was odd, because the war was over and there was no need for military strategy. He crawled up next to the Captain.

"What's wrong, sir?"

Powers was staring out into the fog as if he was trying to focus on something. "Did you hear that?"

Carl listened for a second. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Just the sound of crickets and frogs chirping. "No, sir."

Powers quickly turned his head to the left as if someone poked his shoulder. "Something is circling us."

Carl's heart stopped. "The wolves?"

"I don't know." Powers began scanning the area around them. He stopped. "There is a light over there."

Carl looked towards the area where his commanding officer was pointing. Sure enough, a single red light split through the dense fog.

"Farm house?"

"I don't really care. I just want to get inside somewhere." With another wave of his hand, Powers got his squad moving again towards the strange red light. It took them five minutes to reach it. Dark shapes started to form as they drew closer. The red light was growing brighter. Finally, Powers got close enough to identify its source.

Powers voice was confused and puzzled. "It's a fence."

Carl, Marks and Pudgy stood beside their Captain. Sure enough, a long, chain-linked fence stood before them. A single red light was nestled in between the barbed wire curling along the top. The fence seemed to have seen better days, because the metal itself seemed twisted and torn. Large holes dimpled the outside, some big enough to let a man in.

"That's odd." Powers walked closer to the strange landmark.

"What is, sir?"

"It must be a factory or something, because German farmers rarely use barbed wire fences to keep their cattle in. I wonder what's on the other side."

A long moan echoed out of the darkness again, this time closer. Pudgy started to sweat.

"Um, well, I don't really care what's on the other side, as long as we get out of this fog."

Powers nodded and motioned for his men to pass through one of the holes in the fence. They moved through, ready to get to safety.

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_Please Read and Review! I'm really glad to be getting some sort of writing in and this one is going to be really fun for me. Hope you like it guys. _


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